


The Boy and the World

by aliengirlguy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliengirlguy/pseuds/aliengirlguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Tom Riddle take a different route to obtain power and where one man decides to keep the prophesy to himself, a different boy comes into the Wizarding World.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K Rowling and other relevant subsidiaries. This is strictly for personal entertainment only, no infringement is intended.<b></b></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's Normal Really?

**Author's Note:**

> This, and the next chap or two is mainly to set up the AU and Harry in it.  
> Things regarding Harry and his place in this new world will be made clearer as the story moves along.  
> I have also somewhat decided on Harry's future pairing, but leaving it open to having my mind changed should something in the fic strike me as working better then what i have originally intended. keep in mind that is not something i will worry about, in regards to Harry, until he hits his 15 or 16, and that it will most likely being another male or possibly a male multi pairing.

Chapter 1  


_“…I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities.”_ \- Dr. Seuss.

James Harrison Potter liked to think he had it good.

He had a beautiful wife, Lily, and two best friend Sirius Black and Remus Lupin (Peter Pettigrew was also a friend as well, but not as close as Reamus and Sirius) who were all slightly above average witch and wizards that filled out his little family into something he was not shy to admit was as close to perfect, in his opinion, then could be.

Then there was his son.

His only child and heir, Harry James Potter, however, was somewhat…well, perhaps not the chip off the ol’ marauder block, but still a normal wizarding child. At least that was what he liked to tell himself anyway, and chiefly ignored, what he mentally referred to in the well shoved out of conscious thoughts as ‘isolated incidences.’

His only child, from the moment he was born, was born in not so normal circumstances.

Lilly and James had went to visit Dumbledore along with the Longbottoms, interestingly enough, friends and co-workers from the Auror Department where James worked as a rising star in the field, having recently, along with the Longbottoms, received commendations for furthering the safety and integrity of the British Ministry breaking up a rather involved international illegal confederation of Black market Dark objects import and export. it was this recent event that had Dumbledore inviting both families to visit for tea, discussing the case, and in general enjoying a bit of chit-chat and the recent updates on the pregnancy of the wives and how Alice was due any day now, and Lily in a little under a month.

Lily had decided to go for a walk, and stubborn as a mule about her husband’s offer to escort the red head. The eight months pregnant which had waddled off while the others remained to continue to talk.

Lilly never said why she had done it, only that it was something she felt strongly she had to do.  
That something was to venture into the Forbidden Forrest. 

There, the witch lost memory of what happened next, only to awaken on the door step of Hagrid's Hut, several hours later in pitch darkness, and not early afternoon, no longer pregnant, with a tiny infant in her arms and swathed in her over robes a little after midnight of July 31. 

James had never been more scared in his life then realizing his wife had gone missing. They had searched for hours with Aurors, Professors and friends, with Frank and Alice Longbottom leaving the search party as Alice had gone into labour due to the excitement.

When Hagrid turned up in the great hall, where the search party had later reconvened, all standing at the head table around a map gently leading a rather dazed Lilly who carried the quiet newborn in her arms. James had never been the more relieved in his life tp see those beautiful drawn features.

Questions had been asked, of course, but without viable answers that Lilly had not been able ot provide, especially how their premature son, while small, was somehow extremely healthy for a premature birth, everything healthy developed to that if she had gone the full nine months was also unexplained. Though Albus would comment that it was likely that a passing denizen must have assisted in the birth at one point, given the conditions of both mother and son, but the parents were just happy that it hadn't ended in a tragedy, and James had stop the inquest when he had seen how it upset his wife. and was left as, finally, one of Magic’s miracles that pop up every now and again, and not discussed again.

Despite the mysterious and unusual conditions of his son's birth, he didn't let it dictate his opinion in his son's future demeanor.  
The other oddity over the years though was his son’s rather quiet demeanor.  
Even from infant-hood, his son had a rather thoughtful air about him, not given to tantrums, fussing, or much exuberance. he and Lily would often have to put charms on their child to alert them if he needed a diaper change or was otherwise distressed, as Harry never, if rarely, seemed to cry. The only time he did was when he was injured, like the time Sirius accidentally dropped him when he slipped on a spill in the kitchen while feeding a two year old Harry. Incidences like that were the only thing that really brought any crying from him, and even then, it wasn't wails, but just unhappy sniffles and a few tears.

If it wasn’t for the fact that his son clearly inherited his looks, mainly in the messy black hair, though with his mothers green eyes, paler skin, and stubborn jaw, and the fact that his wife wasn’t that type of woman, he would have wondered if the boy was even his.  
his son wasn't loud and fun loving as his father, nor as passionate and quick to rage as his mother.  
While the boy shared his parents enjoyment for the outdoors, Lily’s enjoyment lay in idle walks through the Potter Estate gardens while she read her latest Charm’s book/magazine, a common sight, given she was a Charms Master. Nor wasn’t it James’ boyish enthusiasm for sports, particularly for Quiddich.  
His son was more inquisitive, often exploring every nook and cranny of his environment, and would sometimes be found in bushes, up trees, or on the manor roof and so forth watching clouds, whispering to butterflies or watching Bowtruckles dance (how he never peeved them off, being territorial little blighters of their magic tree homes, or how he got them to dance in the first place James was unsure of).

His son’s most common place to be found though was the Owlery, either reading one of his books, tying feathers into his messy locks or into his cloths and pretending to fly, or just whispering into the hidden ears of the Potter owls, a handsom collection of Great Grey Owls that were the Potter family's favored breed of delivery owl. 

Then there was the reading.  
Like his mother, Harry had inherited her bookaholic tendencies, which pleased Lily at first and made James sigh at the injustice of certain Even’s genes apparently taking a foot hold in more places in his son’s eyes, chin and complexion.  
The drawback, in Lily’s opinion, was that her son was often interested more in fiction of varying varieties both wizarding and muggle. this made it difficult for lily (only interested in books that could inform, and James, who was not interested in anything beyond his sports magazines and the occasional Transfiguration Quartley) found it difficult to relate to their child's fascination with fiction, especially the more fantastical varieties.  
Harry James Potter, while not exactly his parents carbon copy, could still be said to be relatively normal, despite all this, after all, both parents, especially James had reasoned, there were other children out there who were not like their parents, children who were quiet, children who were dreamers, etc.

But then the issue of his magic arose.

When Harry had turned 9 years old, and still showed no signs of accidental magic, both parents worried that their son might be a squib, something practically unheard of in mixed pureblood/muggleborn or half-blood/muggleborn marriages. They took him to specialists. At first, they all thought the Potter’s fears were confirmed when they tested him for magic, through the use of magic sensitive orbs that did anything from hovering to changing colors in response to the presence of a magical core when held in a child's hands. Harry’s orb had remained cold and dull, unresponsive to his touch.

The tests, and the fact that he had no previous history of accidental magic, seemed to confirm the family's worse fears, and the Potters were devastated at the news.  
The Potter’s had soon sat down to discuss their options with the grave faced adviser provided by Saint Mungo’s for parents with recently diagnosed squib offspring a month after the diagnoses. It was in the middle of discussing alternative school options that a commotion out in the waiting room caused a nurse to fetch the Potter’s and informed them that their son was currently sitting cross legged on the floor, starring in bemused confusion as a group of animals that were running amok, the fat that their other patients and the desk secretary were currently missing it was safe to assume the origins of the various small zoo collection bounding around the waiting room in panic and confusion.

it was indeed confirmed that their son had been the origin of the chaos when he admitted to changing the family of purebloods, two parents and a set of twins who had been waiting on a doctors appointment, the secretary and a elderly women with her grandson. he didn't say why it had happened, only that he had been the cause of it, and the fact that the Spell Reversal squad from another section of the hospital had to be brought in and they confirmed that the accidental transfiguration of the unfortunate people could not be reversed unless done by the caster, and Harry, after being guided through the spell needed to transform the people back into the humans, succeeded using one of the spell reversal squads wands (after cringing from most of them in disgust) and it had worked, delighted James and relieved them immensely.

The Potters were so proud that James even paid for an entire 5 tier bookshelf full of as many stories as his son wanted, which caused the rare appearance of child like excitement to wash across his son ever. The Potter’s never bothered to follow up and ask why the testing orb, considered unfailingly accurate method had, for the first time in centuries, not worked. Something that still left some head scratching for an unnamed Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries that had been commissioned to find out the origin of the misdiagnoses. This was later shelved as a newer, more interesting project caught the wizard's attention. 

Then there was…well, not something so benign or pleasant.

When Harry had turned 10, James had, as head of the Noble House of Potter, was often forced, like many other upper-crust Pureblood head of houses, to attend the annual yearly coming out ball for the latest round of of age witches and wizards.  
Lily had looked ravishing in bronze dress robes while James had worn a deep Navy trimmed in poppy red. They had been gossiping with the other upper-crust light families and some neutral, ignoring the occasional sniff throughout the night at Lily’s presence, being a muggleborn, though grudgingly accepted because of her impeccable manners, and James, being James was quickly bored with the hustle and bustle of it all. 

He eventually decided to go hunting for Sirius, knowing that as Head of the Black Family he would have been roped into the pretentious snore-fest as well, hoping that his fellow marauder was hidden away somewhere that also had a pool table and fine brandy (they were in the Parkinson manor this evening). In his search, he happened to pass by a game room that was reserved for the children younger then 12. 

James paused in his search and smiled when he saw the giggling children huddled around various games or charismatic individual talking about something or other. He smirked, it was rather amusing to see a less mature version of what was going on in outside on the adult end of these functions.

Curious to see his son such an environment, though knowing what to expect, he was unsurprised to note from his disillusioned spot in the shadows by the entrance, that his son was nose deep in a rather thick tome that featured a raging Hippogriff chasing a comically smiling vampire holding a large egg in his hands. The latest volume from "Muckle Viensore and the Valley of the Hippogriff", another installment of one of his sons exhaustive list of fictional book series. The boy had just acquired it 2 days ago as a reward for finally giving in to his mothers pleads to read something that would at least improve his mind. The fact that his son had, unsurprisingly, chosen a book on care of magical creatures, didn’t surprise him one dot. Lilly was just relieved that their son was finally developing that exploritive fascination he always had in the world.  
James though, knew that his son, when asked about what he had read, and given an exhaustive rendition on the relationship habits between Owls and Bowtruckels, that his son had not read it in the book that Lily had provided for him. Though he had decided not to mention it to Lily.

Harry was at lease a part of a group this time around, though this was mainly by his close proximity in his chair to the Malfoy heir clique. Consisting of the host’s youngest daughter, Pamila…Hyecenth…something or other, some flower name, he couldn’t remember, along with the Greengrass, Zambini, Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott heirs respectively. The Malfoy heir stood, with his little chest puffed out in pride as the children oo’ed and ahh’ed over a small, arm length silvery magical serpent that lounged on the boys shoulders, flicking its tiny black forked tongue out at the children.  
James made a face, shivering. He hated snakes! at was just like a slimy Slytherin like Lucius Malfoy to give his son a snake.  
If there was ever a child destined for Slytherin, it was the Malfoy heir, and most likely most, if not all of the little brats around him as well. At least Harry was not being friendly with their sort, the last thing he needed was for his son to have friends from dark wizard families.

It seemed that the Malfoy brat was not pleased at being ignored by Harry, as he seemed to eventually notice his presence as he sneered at the boy behind the book.  
“Potter is it? With that hair, it has to be.”  
His son gave that slight droop and raise of the book cover that indicated he had sighed and sand lowered the book, finally taking notice of the group standing beside the chair he was sitting.  
“Harry James Potter, heir of the most Noble house of Potter,” he introduced politely, as his mother had taught him. James grimaced, who would have rather his son just sneered at the boy and told him where to stuff it.  
After the other children gave rounds of names and titles, the Malfoy boy continued.  
“So what do you think of my new pet Potter?” he unwrapped the serpent from around his neck and thrust it, practically into Harry’s lap. The green eyed boy looked down at the snake he held in his hands, holding it up to his face curiously, not noticing the look of disappointment on Malfoy’s face. James snorted, the little git had obviously heard from either his father or Snivellus, friend of the Malfoy’s, that Harry’s father had a snake phobia (which could also be blamed on the two men) and had probably thought the fear was passed down to Harry.

Harry, unlike other children growing up, strangely never seemed to show any sort of fear. While James liked to think that it was Harry’s Gryffindor tendencies shining through, at least that’s what he told himself anyway, he knew in the back of his mind that it wasn’t so much Gryffindor tendencies as it was the fact that it never seemed to occur to his son that he should be scared of certain things that would at the very least give regular people pause.

His son then did something that caused both the children and James to freeze.

Soft hisses passed his lips as he smiled slightly at the serpent, who responded in hisses of its own, both in a manner that very much suspiciously looked like an actual conversation.  
James mind was screaming denials by the time Malfoy heir caught himself, and snatched his pet away from his son and marching away from Harry, followed by the rest of his disturbed clique, saying loudly how Harry was "...an idiot Potty that thought making fun of esteemed personages glorious pets was funny was simply low brow and showed his mothers mudblood tendencies at crude humour...".  
Harry merely blinked, shrugged, and turned back to his book, not disturbed in the least by the insult to himself and his mother.  
James frantically clutched onto the blond brats conclusion of what they had just witnessed. After all, there was no way…it was a dark gift, and hereditary at that! And no Potter had ever married into the Slytherin family…at least he didn’t think so, no, there was no way! rumor had it that Potter's were decedent from Godric Gryffindor himself! they had been a strictly Light family, so it was no wonder that the Malfoy brat had assumed Harry was insulting him.  
James felt himself calm down. Yes, that was it, his son was just playing, pretending he could talk to the snake to rile up the pureblood children. He even chuckled a little at his son's joke, perhaps there was hope for him yet. He ignored the fact that his son wasn’t the type to do such things, and that it had sounded and looked very much like the snake and boy knew exactly what they were talking to each other about to have possibly been a prank.

No, James Potter had a near perfect, idolized and popular magical family, with a son that, while not ideal, was otherwise as normal a boy as one could be who just happened to have a few isolated incidences of eccentricities and odd moments after all.  
Yes, everything was good, everything was perfect.


	2. The Allergy

Chapter 2: The Allergy.

 _"Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate."_ \- J.R.R. Tolkien.

It was perhaps one of those singularly obviously rare moments that James and Lily Potter could remember, with perfect clarity and without question being proud of their son.

Such incidences included Lily being proud that her son took more after her, eschewing the Marauder tittle of prankster, or James when his son rode on a broom and very much owned it (even if it didn’t really happen again, as his son lost interest in it quickly) and of course, when their son displayed his magic finally, and powerfully, for the first time or when he was born healthy and strong, (if a little on the small side, and no one remembering the actual birth). 

It was Harry getting his Hogwarts letter on the morning of his 11th birthday from a rather charming screech owl that had taken copious advantage of James Potter dancing his wife around the kitchen and whooping for joy to steal the man’s bacon. Harry though, was less excited as he didn’t know what the big deal was, really. 

After all, he had already known that he was to expect the letter as both his parents had gone to Hogwarts, and he’d had his name down in the books since he was born (Merlin, he’d been born on the grounds!). Still, he decided not to enlighten them, in their prideful excitement, as it was rare to see his parents so ecstatic over something that involved him. 

Not to say that his relationship with his parents was strained or negligent or anything truly horrible or even mildly bad. There was just a slight…barrier; the kind of barrier that all peoples who had different and unique personalities and outlooks on life had with each other. 

So it wasn’t too hard to imagine that said parties would, at times, have a hard time relating to each other on a level acceptable to everyone. Harry understood this, and didn’t begrudge them their lack of understanding him, as he well recognized that his way of looking at the world had so far been different than that of others he had meant so far, even if his outlook seemed perfectly logical and ordinary to him. 

That still didn’t mean that he wasn’t a little boy who, in a certain ordinary cliché form, didn’t desire his parents pride in him. 

His parents celebrated this next step in every young Wizard’s life by taking him out right away to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies. 

This Harry didn’t mind, since a bookstore would be necessary to obtain his, he was sure, rather boring text books, there he would be able to pick up the latest edition of Viensore, or anything else that might catch his fancy. 

The trip was as he expected, filled with bustling families preparing for the new school year or just out enjoying the nice weather. Harry was treated to ice cream by his father while his exasperated mother rolled her eyes and went to acquire their son’s potion supplies. His father’s repugnance for potions was rather immature, from Lilly’s perspective, but it was an old argument that she would never win, so had long become used to her husband’s unnecessary eccentricity.

Her son was indifferent to it, seeming to not overly care either way about it, but then again, they never did any brewing at home, so she would wait and see if James opinion and talents, or lack thereof, in potions would win out. Lily frowned when she thought of her old friend, Severus Snape. While they had never really recovered from their falling out, she still defended him on occasion, and often, along with Dumbledore, reined her husband and Sirius in from causing the dour potions master grief during the monthly meetings they may have together.

As both parents came to expect, James excitement over the latest broom stick model, the Nimbus 2000, failed to elicit the same excitement in their son, whose attention was caught by a selection of cages holding various types of pixies and hinkypucks on the table of a squat booth next door to the broomstick shop’s display window.

The bookstore was the longest visit so far, leaving Lily to find his school books for the term, while Harry drifted over to the fiction section and began looking for the latest books to add to his collection while his father perused a stack of Quiddich Magazines with a resigned air. 

Since her son wasn’t overly enamoured with sweets or toys or any of the other trinkets that appealed to boys his age. He often saved the allowance that James gave him for the times when he visited a bookstore so it wasn’t surprising to Lily when her son returned with a small armful of muggle and magical novels which he paid for himself. When Lilly later scolded her son for wasting all his money on so many of them, her son had pointed out that Hogwarts was not likely to have much of a fantasy fiction section. The collection would tide him over until the Christmas holidays and by that point he would have enough money saved up again from his monthly allowance for another stack to tide him through until the summer. Lily had to admire her son’s ability to sustain a rather impractical hobby, even if she wished it was for something a bit more useful.

James meanwhile, was bored to tears by the time the day rolled on to the point where he was sitting in a chair watching his son be fitted for his school robes, standing next to that little blond mini-Malfoy, whose father was not there (probably smarming away with some Ministry official or other) while Narcissa Malfoy, a distant cousin of his through his grandmother, turned her nose up at his wife’s attempts at conversation, only to thaw when Lily mentioned a new permanent dyeing charm that would be hitting the public that a team of charm masters, such as his wife, were working on, which seemed to unthaw the stuck up chit a bit.

He was just about to interrupt his wife’s conversation and volunteer his services in picking up some owl treats for the new owl that they were planning on giving their son from the Potter Owlery as an added birthday present, when the door to the clothing shop jingled merrily attracting attention.

It was the man in the doorway though, who kept it.

The women suddenly went tensely silent, even Malfoy Jr. had stopped bragging and was staring at the figure in the doorway with awe, while James’ eyes narrowed and his body tensed. Unable to completely hide his distaste as _He_ sauntered into the store casually. 

Ooo ooo ooo

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Head of International Co-operation stood in the doorway of the cheerful haphazard crush of cloth and racks, surveying the interior with an air of vague interest.

It would figure that his lovely Nagini would drag away one of his favorite, and most expensive, dress robe, the unapologetic serpent keeping her mouth shut about where she stashed it, or why she even took it in the first place. It was these little quirks of his familiar’s that exasperated the most powerful wizard in Britain, but because of his regard for the serpent, was otherwise not able to be punished for her impertinence. 

Since he had been planning to wear them to a ball at the Albanian minister of magic’s annual August ball, he had decide to just pick up a new set at Madam Malkin’s and be done with it.

He noticed, with mild interest, that two of the old fool’s prominent Light family supporters were eyeing him wearily (on the case of the woman with a politely strained smile at least and the Potter head with poorly veiled dislike). He only took the time to take the eye sweep, apply faces and careers mentally, before dismissing them as insignificant.

Lady Malfoy on the other hand nodded to Tom politely, dipping her head a little longer then was customary out of respect to something discreetly more significant, while the Malfoy heir…Tom grimaced at the poorly veiled avarice that crossed the little blond squirt’s face. 

Tom dismissed the Malfoy’s just as readily.

It was as his eyes were searching for a free attendant that wasn’t already attending to customer or staring at him slack jawed or dreamy eyed like an incompetent idiot, that his eyes strayed over the second child in the store, pausing long enough to peruse the child for the barest of moments. The boy was small, though not unhealthily so, with the trade mark Potter hair and knobby knees. He was vaguely coltish and held the natural awkwardness of a child in his pre-teens. Unlike the other people in the shop though, the boy peeked at him curiously from behind round silver spectacles, all ridiculously huge round eyes and long black lashes. It was the tone of green though that, for the first time in a while, elicited his attention.

Unlike his mother, who had a more lighter, jade green hue to her eyes, the Potter boy’s eyes were a startling mesmerising Avada kadavera green.

For a moment, as his own violet eyes focused on the boy’s eyes, he felt a strange, surprising tingle suddenly shoot up his spine, a rather startling and not entirely welcome sensation. 

The boy cocked his head like a curious crup before turning to his mother and asking her if they were almost finished so he could visit the Magical Menagerie before going home.

That seemed to snap everyone out of their various mental states a everything returned to the normal hustle and bustle. The manager of the property herself even bustled up to the ministry official and began seeing to his order. 

While Tom was being fitted, he couldn’t help his gazing being continuously drawn towards the boy, pondering on the rather odd sensation he had experienced. Though after the Potter’s left, and the Malfoy’s not soon after, his concern over the odd exchange disappeared, finally marked as irrelevant. After all, it was just a boy, an insignificant Light child that held no significance to the grand scheme of things that were much worthier of his contemplations, like the upcoming ball and the rich wealth of contacts he could establish there.

Ooo ooo ooo

Unfortunately for Harry, his mother and father had not forgotten his wand. If there was one thing that Harry hated more than anything, it was wands.

Why that was, he was not overly sure about, but since he was little, he had always felt a deep well of repulsion for them. There was no reason he could fathom, only that something intrinsic inside cringed whenever he was asked to hold one, similarly to how A Malfoy would respond should they be told to hold a pair of dirty bloomers he would expect.

As they walked into Olivander’s Wand Shop, he could feel every inch of his skin crawl, and only his mother’s firm grip on his shoulder and his parents expectant excitement kept him from running.

He’d never told anyone about his wand phobia. After all, he was the son and heir of a prominent Light Wizard family, and he was reared within the Wizarding World. He was expected to want a wand. Even muggleborns were excited about getting a wand. After all, he would need one to cast spells and do magic right? So why wouldn’t he want the very tool that was so important for making him who he was, a wizard?

He knew that his repulsion was not normal, and knew that if his parents found out, they would be so disappointed in him. He may not say it out loud, but he valued their opinion of him as any little boy would. In that regard he was very normal indeed.

When the wand maker revealed himself, the round pale blue eyes and flyaway hair and eccentric demeanor flavored with a decidedly mysterious air, was not in any way reassuring.

“Ah yes, Harry James Potter, I have been expecting you” the raspy tenor greeted him as he stepped out of the shadows, those owlish eyes gleaming at him with an intensity that was distinctly uncomfortable for the pre-teen.

“Olivander,” Harry’s mother greeted warmly, “it’s good to see you again.”

The wandmaker, temporarily diverted by the polite greeting swung his orbs at Harry’s parents.

“Lily Evens, 10¼ inch, Willow, core of dragon heart string from a plucky Ridgeback, swishy and good for charms, ” he turned his eyes to his father, who rubbed the back of his head and gave an awkward greeting of his own, “11 inch, Mahogany, pliable, core of a rather dandy unicorn hair, good for transfiguration. I trust both your wands are doing well?”

Both adults nodded reassurances, before the wandmaker returned his focus back to Harry.

For the longest time he observed Harry as the pre-teen shifted uncomfortably, idly scratching at his arms irritably. 

“Well, this is interesting,” the old man muttered, eyes still fixed unblinkingly on Harry, “curious, very curious, but best to be sure then,” he muttered to himself before he nodded and addressed Harry.

“Young Mr. Potter, if you would please walk towards the wand shelves and continue to walk as far as you can please.”

Harry grimaced, and his parents exchanged baffled looks at the unusual request. Reluctantly, Harry left his mother’s side and walked slowly towards the dusty shelves that held who knew how many thousands of wands. He barely made it past the first shelf, his bones now seeming to be trying to join his skin in crawling as far away as possible. He gave a full body shutter before he couldn’t take it anymore and he backed away until he was huddled against the cash counter. 

“Well, now, seems I was right then, dear, dear.” The old man tsked. 

“What’s going on? Harry?” James demanded, his voice clearly agitated, he turned to Olivander, reaching for his wand, “what did you do? What’s wrong with him?”

Lily meanwhile had crouched down next to her son, disturbed by her son’s reaction, especially as she had so rarely ever seen him so distressed.

“Your son, I am sorry to say, is allergic,” the old man sighed. 

James stopped reaching for his wand. 

“To a wand ingredient?” Lily asked a little confusedly as she helped her son to his feet, casting cleaning charms to remove the dust from the floor, conjuring a glass then some water and handing it over to him. 

“No, to be more precise, wands in general,” The old man clarified in a mussing hum. 

“What!” hollered James, striding forward to standing nearly nose to nose with the old man, “what kind of ridiculous answer is that! He’s a wizard of course he’s not allergic to wands!” 

Olivander leaned away, retreating behind the counter and taking a seat on the stool muttering “dear, dear, no need for excitement now, not the end of the world,” Olivander tsked, readjusting his glasses with the air of a put upon man when faced with hysterical ninnies. 

“Not the end of the world?! Are you mad!? He’s a blooming wizard that needs a wand to do magic of course it’s the end of the world!” James exploded, reaching eruption level in the face of the wandmaker’s doddering non-chalance, “how can one expect him to function normally if he can’t use a wand!?” 

No one noticed Harry’s face pale at his father’s words or his head droop. 

“Well, I admit that he will indeed be somewhat hampered in the learning process, but it’s not insurmountable.” Before her husband could explode again, Lily interrupted, “can you explain exactly how you drew the conclusion that he is allergic to wands?” 

The wandmaker hummed thoughtfully before explaining, “it’s a rather unusual condition. I have known of it only from mentions in my family’s journals. I can safely say it has been more than a thousand years at least. I only knew what to look for based on my brief fascination with the condition a few years back. A wand allergy is perhaps not quite an accurate term, it’s more an anti-thesis.” 

“Anti-thesis?” James frowned.

“Hmmm…yes, quite fascinating state really; It centres around the magic of the user, a rare sort of quark in the construction of the magical core that was not made clear in the journals, but otherwise induces a deep dislike or loathing from the very essence of a user’s magic at the function of a wand or any other type of focus outside of the users own will.” 

Lily clutched her son closer, looking dismayed, while her husband looked like he wanted very much to kick something. Everyone was silent after that, but for the sound of James’ pacing feet. 

“So let me get this straight,” James finally stopped, serious toned, “my son cannot wield any wand of any kind, ever?” 

Olivander gave an exasperated huff but nodded.

“What about wandless magic then?”

“James!” Lily exclaimed, aghast, “he is much too young to even contemplate such a thing, and even if he weren’t young know as well as I that Harry would need the foundations that wand using provides so he can understand the spell he would use in the first place!”

“I KNOW!” James shouted, silencing his wife, whose mouth snapped closed. Seeing her wide eyed look and crumpled expression, he quieted his tone, “but we have no choice, I know it’s not done, but our son has magic, he will be going to Hogwarts like any other child his age. He’s…He’s smart Lil, I’m sure with a lot of practice…and perhaps learning the theory will help…” his voice trailed off, in this bit unsure, but shook his head thinking furiously that no, his son would succeed, he was his son, and he would make sure that his son would be the great wizard he knew he could be, wand or no wand! 

However…James, face turned steely as he whirled on the wand maker.

“Is it just a wand in and of itself, or is it also tied to something that could pass for a wand?”

“James!” Lilly found her voice again, “what are you planning?”

“I will not have any son of mine being ostracized because of some thousand year old rare allergy! Well?” the last he barked at Ollivander when his wife went silent again, her head bowed. The wand maker hummed thoughtfully then answered. “From what I understand, a fake wand shouldn’t be a problem, merely anything that is a real made magical focus…hummm…yes, I got something that might do, one moment.”

The old man left, disappearing into the back of the story for a few minutes, then returned, holding something in his hands. He handed it over to Harry, who eyed the shiny black stick with its pale white tip curiously. Other than being oddly coloured with a more rounded tip instead of a dulled rounded point, it looked like a wand.

“You must be joking!” Harry’s mother exclaimed disapprovingly, she obviously seemed to recognize what her son was holding.

“Yes, actually,” Olivander mused, “it was a joke gift from a college of mine who likes to visit the muggle world from time to time.”

James leaned forward, inspecting the unusual wand saying “I thought you said Harry was allergic to wands.”

“He is,” Olivander explained, “this is not a wand. In the muggle world, they call it a conductor’s baton, it’s used to lead musicians in an orchestra during concerts, but they are also similarly used by muggle illusionists as well. We just adjust the shape…” he waved his wand and the baton shivered before taking on the outlines of a wizards wand, “adjust the colour a bit..” the white tip disappeared, “ and voila! 11 ½ inch black ivory (he was always fond of expensive gifts), perfect for hiding your son’s secret.” 

James deflated a bit at hearing it was fake, but he had to admit, it was a handsome facimilie and it would help towards making sure that no one became aware of his son’s handicap. The only thing left to do would be a discreet finessing in the wand registration offices, a fake wand core, perhaps a feather from one of the owlery birds) added to a fake wand, he was good at transfigurations after all, so that the magical scanners would be provide with something should it ever be examined…yes. This would work out, and no one will ever find out about his son’s decidedly non-normal condition. 

Ooo ooo ooo

A/n: well, that’s all for now. Lost a bit of steam for the fic, but I will try to post something once in a while. 

**Author's Note:**

> A/n:Please keep in mind that updates are sporadic (I am a university student who also works) and this will not be posted at any other sites. what is here is here, what is at other sites is at other sites.


End file.
